


Date Night

by owl_coffee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkward Dates, Dancing, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:51:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2206017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owl_coffee/pseuds/owl_coffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John couldn't remember when the tradition of Date Night had started, exactly. But he never wanted it to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Date Night

John couldn't remember when the tradition of Date Night had started, exactly. It had just - started. Every Tuesday night they went somewhere. The name came from one of their first conversations, an awkward joke about 'friend-dates' after the misunderstanding at the restaraunt. Sherlock suggested it, to start with. He was boyishly enthusiastic about the whole thing. As John later discovered, it was because he'd never done this sort of thing before with anyone. His choices of venue were unusual, to say the least. 

Some were more sucessful than others. A visit to an abbatoir where Sherlock had solved one of his first cases, for instance, didn't go down too well. "And this is where they fed him into the bone grinder!" Sherlock finished explaining to a queasy John, who to forestall further gruesome details asked where they would be eating later. "I thought the Meat Market would be nice. It's a place where they serve fresh offal - kidneys, hearts, lungs - from this slaughterhouse. They make excellent sausages." John didn't think he'd ever eat a sausage again, and said so. Then he threw up on Sherlock's shoes.

Sherlock pretended his Date Night ideas were improvised off-the-cuff things. But it became clear that he'd researched each one painstakingly, trying to find interesting facts. "Did you know this resteraunt is close to the site of the first Jack the Ripper killing?" he'd casually remark. "We could go and look at the location, if you'd like?" Or, "This pamphlet says the Science Museum is holding an exhibition on medical forensics throughout history. I happen to have some vouchers for it, let's go have a look." It was rather endearing.

When it was his turn, John's ideas for Date Night were less creative. Embarrassingly boring, really. He never wanted them to go out, was more of a home-body. But Sherlock didn't seem to mind when each time John took his turn it was another rented movie and a pizza on the sofa. Weirdly enough, romantic comedies were Sherlock's favourite. He was terrible to watch with though, always spoiling the plot by saying who would end up with who. With the warm weight of Sherlock's head against his shoulder, John couldn't bring himself to mind.

Another time they went to a nightclub because, Sherlock said, he wanted to test a new theory about the psychological effects of strobe lighting. During the course of the evening, John realised that Sherlock had simply wanted to see what it was like. "You've never been? Not once before in your life?" he demanded, incredulously. "What about school discos?"  
"I was home-schooled!" shouted back Sherlock. "I love this song! What is it called? Let's dance!" His dance moves were actually pretty impressive, considering. Although he grew a little overenthusiastic as the drinks got to them both and ended up hitting a man in the face on the backswing. After John had managed to extract them from the fight with some diplomatic words, they both decided that maybe nightclubs weren't the greatest idea for Date Night.

Valentine's day happened to fall on a Tuesday that year. Sherlock took John out anyway, blissfully unaware of the traditions of normal people as per usual. John was handed a pink rose by the restaraunt staff, given a heart-shaped menu and seated at a table scattered with pink sequins. They were surrounded by dozens of real couples, packed together like sardines to maximise the resteraunt space. It was incredibly uncomfortable. Even when he'd done this for real with Sarah (his first and only serious-enough girlfriend) it had felt strained and awkward. In fact, they'd broken up soon after. 

It became increasingly embarrassing as the night wore on. Some people gave them soppy looks, others looked vaguely offended, one man gave a look filled with hatred and John wanted to punch him in the face. Finally, he had to say something. "Sherlock, I don't know if you've noticed, but it's Valentine's day, today."  
"Yes, I do have that holiday written on my calendar. Lots of romantic-jealousy related crimes today. And break-ups. Actually, the statistics are quite interesting - "  
"Sherlock, I'm a bit - weirded out by all this. I don't like the way it feels. Those people think we're on an *actual* date!" John hissed.  
"We are on an actual date, aren't we? This is what people on dates do. This is what we do. It's Date Night. Right, John?" Sherlock looked genuinely puzzled.  
"No! No, Sherlock, this is not what we do. Date Night is a, a joke, a cute nickname for a way that we spend time together. As friends. That's all. I said I wasn't gay when we first met, and I meant it, Sherlock."  
"But all those times - " Sherlock looked crestfallen.  
"All those times what?" What had he been thinking? Sherlock was so socially inept he might - just might - have misinterpreted everything. Suddenly John felt like the worst person in the world.  
Sherlock smiled suddenly, like a shark. "Joking! I was just pulling your leg, John. No need to worry."  
John, anticipating having to make those awkward explanations and apologies all over again, shook his head and laughed with relief. Mostly relief. "You bastard. I thought you really were, like, emotionally traumatised by it all."  
"So did you want to know about those statistics? It's fascinating, the number of divorces peaks roughly a month after Valentines - just enough time for a really terrible date - "  
"Or for someone to forget it altogether - " mused John.  
"And then time for the papers to be served. More couples break up today than any other in the calendar."  
"Good thing we aren't _actually_ a couple then. I still think it's awkward though, giving everyone the wrong idea," said John.  
"What do you care what other people think, John?" Sherlock sighed when all he got in return was a roll of the eyes. "Fine, next year we can stay in."

John's Date Nights were still extremely un-creative. Half a bottle of wine, take-out from the Indian across the road, the sofa and an episode of Game of Thrones was current favourite. Sherlock didn't seem to mind, and used the sofa time for some - there wasn't a better word for it - snuggling. 'Cuddly' wasn't the first adjective that sprang to mind when describing Sherlock, but it turned out he was remarkably good at it, winding his flexible limbs around to anchor John to the couch, like a large warm cat. No-one mentioned aloud how John reacted to all the snuggling. He wasn't gay. It was probably just some kind of left-over PTSD thing. Sherlock didn't seem to notice, thank the gods.

After they had sex the first time, Date Night turned into something else. Not quite a boyfriend-date, because neither of them was comfortable calling it that. But it seemed silly to stop the tradition, just because things had gotten - different.


End file.
